My Husband Overprotective
“Get your keys,” I told him.
“Now.”
Ethan backed out of the doorway, his eyes fixed on the floor as he reached into his coat pocket, his thumbs moving rapidly across his phone screen in the dark hallway.
I looked down at the changing table where the Braun digital ear thermometer lay on its side, the lit screen still flashing the numbers in the dark room: 104.1.
Ethan grabbed his wool coat off the nursery chair and jammed his leather messenger bag under his left arm.